


Opheliac

by wunderstell



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Edgar Allan Poe References, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insane!Jason Todd, References to Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 15:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21448240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wunderstell/pseuds/wunderstell
Summary: "Jason, do you...know how to be quiet?" She inquired smoothly, interested in seeing his reaction.He froze. Fell silent. Then, he raised his head. Those eyes—those magnificent gunmetal blue hues, and there was something else, a toxic acid green—they were quite glossed over. As if he really wasn't there. He remained still, unblinking, as he spoke."Madam said I...I come quietly as the dead."
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Opheliac

Another day—a few more screams and rants. Nothing new. Dr. Ophelia Wilson let out a sigh as she roamed the white halls she practically lived in. She detested this place. Not because of the suffering of the poor patients—that she could surprisingly handle. No, this place was male dominant. And these men were pigs. Simple pigs. They cat-called whenever she passed them. Like they were now. After some time, she learned to just roll her eyes and pass them by. They were never going to change. Besides, if she didn't bark at them, they wouldn't treat her like she was one of the female patients here.

She shuddered. Pigs. All of the staff here. Simply pigs. And some of the procedures here, most unorthodox. It just goes to show how little had changed since the Victorian period when it came to dealing with the mentally unstable in society. She briskly turned the corner, hugging her lab coat closer to her perfectly curved frame. This hall was quite cold.

_'I wonder why this hall is colder than the others?'_

Ophelia had never been down this hall before. This was her very first time. It was for those deemed almost too unstable to intermingle with the others. She was full of glee when the head doctor of the asylum allowed her to take on the newest patient here. Apparently, this one was quite hard to talk to. Only spoke in what appeared to be in Shakespeare, Poe, and lyrics from a singer called Emilie Autumn. They practically begged her to take on this patient. She had this _talent_ to get through to even the most difficult of the insane. She took pride in this talent of hers. It seemed to help the patients from suffering further. That and from being punished.

"Ah, is that you, Dr. Wilson?"

She tried to hide her discontent. The man that noticed her arrival was her fellow psychiatrist Dr. Nigaff. She despised him with a burning passion. He was too smug for her taste. She approached him with a false grin.

_'Doctor's little slave I am...' _"Hello, Dr. Nigaff. What brings you here?"

The man pointed at the door he stood in front of, looking rather disgruntled about it. "I'm here to show you the room. The inmate is on the other side." 

"Please, dear sir, I prefer to call those trapped in here 'patients', not inmates."

"Whatever. Look, this guy is dangerous. There is a glass wall between you and him. He has been known to attack the doctors that have tried to even get anything logical from him. There is a door that can only be opened on your side if you feel brave enough to encounter him in a more personal manner. But that's about it. Other than that, good luck. He doesn't talk much sense. Always muttering something weird."

"And this is why I was called to observe him." 

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He shoved the door open, scowling in disgust. "Have fun."

Ophelia nodded curtly, brushing by him. The door slammed behind her, startling her. But she recovered quickly and looked up. He was right. There was a giant wall of glass between her and the patient. And that door, how was anyone supposed to know that's what it was? It looked more like a school locker than anything. A chair sat in the middle of her side—calling to her. So she sat down, glancing at the man on the other side of this glass.

He was hunched over on the bed, draped in white. His ginger hair brought a glow in this drab room. She took note of the white streak among the bright red. He was muttering something. Ophelia couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but she would eventually be able to understand him as the sessions went on. She scooted the chair forward, eagerly prepared for their first session. This man would bring her career to new heights. She could feel it.

"Jason?" she cooed with silk. "I'm Ophelia, your new doctor."

His body twitched heavily. His voice shot out lowly, ringing an odd, hypnotizing tone. "This obsession is at its best perverse, by god what in the world!"

The woman let out a tight inhale and exhale. She was already transfixed by this mad fellow. She leaned forward, interlocking her fingers. "You can think of me as a friend. Is that alright?"

He scoffed, twitching and muttering far too quickly. Ophelia grinned, simply intrigued. What made him tick? What brought him to this point of madness?

"Can you tell me about yourself? I'd love to know about you. I hear you like Shakespeare, is this true?"

His reply: "_Et tu, Brute? _Then fall, Caesar."

She chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes." 

"It's far too crowded in this cell...we are not living we're in hell! When will the tables finally turn? When will they fall? When will they burn?!"

Ophelia shifted in her seat, surprised by his harsh and quick voice. It was quite...enticing. _'No! I can't get distracted! I need him to talk some sense!' _"Are you nervous, Jason?"

Jason twitched his head to the right, chuckling darkly. "True!—nervous—very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?"

_'Ah, there's Poe. He said that...how the story should be read. How intriguing.' _"What makes nervous about all of this, Jason?"

"Hell is empty...and all the devils...are here!"

For the first time in her career, Ophelia felt nervous yet, so very excited. This man...he was...interesting, to say in the least. He rattled out whatever and yet, they made perfect sense. Did this mean she too was mad? No. She just understood them better than most. She leaned forward some more, watching him very carefully. He was a very fidgety individual. Always twitching in a horror movie fashion. Always quick, always jerky, always rigid. And he was constantly muttering. She caught him reciting the entire monologue from Hamlet—the _'to be or not to be' _one everyone knew. He was fascinating.

"Jason, do you...know how to be quiet?" She inquired smoothly, interested in seeing his reaction.

He froze. Fell silent. Then, he raised his head. Those eyes—those magnificent gunmetal blue hues, and there was something else, a toxic acid green—they were quite glossed over. As if he really wasn't there. He remained still, unblinking, as he spoke.

"Madam said I...I come quietly as the dead."

Ophelia felt her blood run cold. It was obvious why anyone would say he was unfit to mingle with others that were society's outcasts. He would likely drive them deeper into insanity. He himself was so deep in it...

"Jason..." She placed a hand on the glass, staring at him with sincerity. "What is your favorite Shakespeare quote?"

He paused, tilting his head to the left. It was as if he was processing somewhere in that deranged mind of his her question. He blinked. He hummed. Then...

"Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt thou the sun doth above, doubt truth be liar...but never doubt I love..."

She smiled. So he did understand people after all. His answers, however, were ones that most sane personages would fail to understand. "That is beautiful. Can I say something? A bit of poetry, perhaps? I happen to be a fan of Poe as well. Would that be okay?"

A smile twisted across his lips. "I'll spend an eternity comparing all my poetry to you."

She blushed faintly. Despite knowing he was not mentally stable, he was still a human being, still an enticing person. "Was that Emilie Autumn? Do you like her?"

He nodded, muttering something from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Ophelia giggled, lowering her hand off the glass.

"I've just started listening to her. A friend recommended her to me. Maybe tomorrow we could recite her lyrics. Would you like that?"

Again, Jason nodded. Those dead pools, they seemed to light up with innocent life.

"But today is Poe. One day...maybe Shakespeare. I'm also a fan of his."

He blinked, acting surprised. This expression faded, replaced by eagerness. He leaned forward in his bed, waiting for her to speak. She watched him with curiosity. This was never in any of the reports on him. They all said he was constantly muttering, constantly looking uninterested and dull. And if he wasn't that, he was ranting and raving, sometimes getting violent.

_'Maybe all he wanted was someone to talk to. Someone to share his bizarre passion with. Maybe...maybe this will help him.' _"Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor."

The ginger's brow furrowed. "You started late."

Ophelia tried to hold back her gasp. It didn't work. Her gasp was loud and echoed throughout the room. She smacked her hands on her mouth hurriedly. How shameful! A doctor of her standards, gasping like this in front of her patient! So utterly shameful! But his response—the _madman's_ response—it astonished her. Jason rested his back against the wall, laughing faintly. There was a sly smirk crookedly resting upon his lips. If he wasn't enticing before with his voice, his eyes, his face, his entire being...he certainly was now.

"The disease had sharpened my senses—not destroyed—not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad?" he whispered coolly, that smirk twisting more and more wickedly.

The doctor gasped once more. What...what was this? Was he...actually sane? Was this all a cunning act to fool the world? To wool over their eyes and prove that none could for sure deem a soul mad?! She had to know. Had to get inside his head. She rose from her chair, cautiously approaching the door leading to his side of the room. He watched her darkly, that wicked grin never faltering. The knob creaked as it turned. The door screeched as it opened. Not once did Jason move. He remained still...incredibly still.

_'Madam said I...I come quietly as the dead.'_

She entered his room...his world. The air was thick—suffocating. She was drowning in it. But alas, she had to continue forward. She approached with careful strides. He watched with twisted delight. And the very moment she stood right in front of his bed, his hands reached to her.

"Hearken! And observe how healthily—how calmly I can tell you the whole story..." his words oozed out like fine Egyptian silk.

There was no other option. She had to obey. And so, she took his hands and curled her fingers around them with quivering anticipation.

"Ophelia? Are you okay?" 

Emeralds opened. Ah. It happened again. She had faded into her own little world—her little fantasy. Before her sat her doctor, her supposed friend. Dr. Napier was always kind to her, but she trusted her not. Her head fell to her shoulder, scraping against the wall. Her knees were curled to her chest, the bed beneath her. The dark-haired man seemed concerned for her. But what did he know? What did he understand? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Did you see Jason again?" the doctor questioned.

Jason...yes. The person they told her lived inside her head. But he was real. He was very real. In fact, he was standing beside her at that very moment. There was an even scowl across his face. He didn't fancy Dr. Napier that much. How could he? The man wanted to get rid of him. Destroy his existence. But Ophelia wouldn't allow that. No. No, no, no—that would not be permitted. Jason was her only friend. He was the one that understood her. He existed, he was real. He breathed and ached as she did. How in the world could these farce doctors tell her that her one and only friend was only a fantasy within her _'deranged' _mind?

"Ophelia..." Dr. Napier said with worry. "I thought I told you not to speak with Jason again. He was the one who told you to hurt that kind man who cared for you."

"Kindness...you know not kindness." Jason hissed venomously.

She nodded. "Yes...you don't know kindness."

"He harmed her...burned her...where is kindness in that?"

"Yes...where is kindness in that?"

Dr. Napier glanced at her in confusion. "Ophelia, is he talking to you right now?"

"Of course." She cooed like a child. "How is it you can't hear him?"

"He doesn't want to," Jason said gently, massaging her shoulders with his thumb. "He doesn't want to believe in me. But I'm here...I'm real..."

"I know you are, but..."

"Shhh. It's okay, my sweet. I will protect you."

"Ophelia...what is he saying?" pressed the doctor worriedly.

Silence was held. Both Ophelia and Jason stared down at the man—eyes blazing with delight. The doctor shifted uncomfortably.

"Here. Let's talk about that night. Can you tell me, from the beginning, about the night you attacked your guardian?"

In dark, delightful unison, Jason and Ophelia spoke as one. "Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen **_me._** You should have seen how wisely I proceeded—with what caution—with what foresight—with what dissimulation I went to work!"

**Author's Note:**

> I found this really old draft in my drive, and well. I rewrote it over and over again for the past days until I ended up with this. Somehow.
> 
> Opheliac is derived from the Hamlet character Ophelia who suffered insanity. It is also the title of an Emilie Autumn song that made the word more 'iconic', I suppose. And I kind of used a lot of The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe in this. But it fits. Perfectly. It is a story of a man who is insane...and yet is also sane (like post-Pit Jason). It's my favorite story of Poe's. If you haven't read it, I HIGHLY recommend it!
> 
> My OC Ophelia isn't related to Slade in any way, btw. It just so happened that her surname was Wilson lmao. And I didn't bother to change her surname so... And Dr. Nigaff is an actual character from DC. He's a secondary psychiatrist in Arkham. I just don't think he made an appearance in the comics or something.
> 
> Also: RED HAIR JASON RIGHTS!!!


End file.
